Chardonnay
by Jyira Keller
Summary: Beautiful teen movie star Chardonnay Monroe seems to have it all. Until a secret from her past rears it’s ugly head and threatens to destroy her world and shame her forever.
1. Part 1

Title: Chardonnay  
  
Author: Jyira Keller  
  
Email: jyira@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Warnings: mild violence, possibly some language and some sexual   
  
situations later on.  
  
Summary: Beautiful teen movie star Chardonnay Monroe seems to have it   
  
all. Until a secret from her past rears it's ugly head and threatens   
  
to destroy her world and shame her forever.  
  
Author's notes: An original story written V.C. Andrews style.   
  
Feedback and constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.   
  
/word/= italics ~word~ = thoughts.   
  
Part 1  
  
The ringing phone jerked me awake sometime in the middle of the   
  
night. The alarm clock told me it was some time after two in the   
  
morning, but my half awake brain didn't want to deal with numbers.  
  
The phone continued to shrill in my ear. I reached out for the pink   
  
receiver. "What?" At two in the morning I could be forgiven for not   
  
being polite.  
  
"Carolyn…you know who this is, don't you?"  
  
I felt as if the blood had been squeezed out of my heart.   
  
"You didn't think I'd forget what you did to me, did you, Carolyn?"  
  
I clutched the receiver so tightly I broke a nail. I heard the   
  
caller's deep, mocking voice, and I knew it was all over.  
  
"I've found you, Carolyn. Or /Chardonnay/ as you call yourself now.   
  
Cute. Now this is really perfect timing on my part, but of course, I   
  
doubt you'll see it that way."   
  
There was a morose, obscene laugh and the line went dead.   
  
For a long, paralysing moment I clutched the phone, just listening to   
  
the disconnected line. ~Oh God not now~. The ice in my veins had   
  
given way to a flow of molten lava. ~Please, God, not now.~  
  
My bedroom door slammed open, and harsh bright light flooded the room   
  
through the large fake chandelier style light hanging from the centre   
  
of my ceiling. "For God's sake, Chardonnay!" the angry voice of my   
  
older sister January yelled. "I know you could get away with murder   
  
if you wanted to, with your fame and fortune and all, but those of us   
  
who weren't nominated for Best Actress at next month's OSCARS need to   
  
get some /sleep/ so we can get on with our normal lives!" January's   
  
voice was filled with undisguised loathing.  
  
At her words my breath caught in my throat. For a moment I thought   
  
for sure I was going to be sick.  
  
"Tell your stalker to call at a /decent/ hour." The door slammed shut   
  
after January stormed off, without turning off the lights as she   
  
went.  
  
I finally put the phone down, staring around my large neat and tidy   
  
bedroom. ~Why now?~ I thought. ~Why now?~  
  
I started to stand up to turn the light off when the door opened   
  
again.   
  
"What was that all about?" My mother came into the room, wrapped in a   
  
red silk bathrobe, trimmed with black fur. "Door slamming and yelling   
  
in the middle of the night is abnormal, even for January."  
  
"I got a prank phone call. She claimed it woke her." I hoped my voice   
  
was reassuring enough so Mother would believe me.  
  
Mother smiled softly, reaching out to brush back a strand of my   
  
golden blonde hair. "My little star. I just /know/ you're going to   
  
win that OSCAR."  
  
"There's fierce competition. I'm up against Abigail Hunter for one   
  
thing. She's won twice already."  
  
"Oh, but don't forget she had that horrible scandal with that vile   
  
Stausky woman and then there was that tabloid frenzy. She's not   
  
looking all that good at the moment."  
  
"I guess."  
  
"And there's going to Golden Globes, and Emmies, and BAFTAS."   
  
Mother's expression was dreamy, her blue eyes were soft, her smile   
  
far away.  
  
I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't going to get every   
  
Best Actress award available in Hollywood. She was so proud of me.  
  
"Oh, what happened to your nails?" Mother cried in alarm.  
  
I looked down at my hands. I had broken one nail when clutching the   
  
phone for dear life as if it had been responsible for my terrible   
  
mistake. To Mother the terrible mistake was breaking the nail. "Oh,   
  
I…" I trailed off.  
  
"We can't have you going out in public with a disaster like this!   
  
We'll get Joanne to fix it before you go to school tomorrow." My   
  
mother left the room, closing the door gently.  
  
I had only just turned seventeen, I still wanted to graduate from   
  
high school. I attended a fancy private school full of kids with   
  
respected parents, they were used to me by now.  
  
Even as a small smile started to cross my lips, the words of the   
  
caller flew back into my mind.   
  
/I've found you Carolyn. It's my turn now./  
  
My dazzling triumph had been snatched away from me in a manner I   
  
would never have thought possible.  
  
* * * 


	2. Part 2

Part 2  
  
The following morning the threatening, life running phone call seemed like a bad dream. Maybe I could force myself to believe that, if it wasn't for my sister January.  
  
Even before breakfast, at seven thirty my mother's beautician Joanne was repairing my nails. January came stalking into the breakfast room, a scowl darkening her features. She was dressed in black leather trousers and a black turtle-neck sweater. The L.A. heat never seemed to bother her. Her auburn hair was tied loosely in a braid that hung down her back. She glared at me as if her black-on-black death walking look was *my* fault.  
  
"Nails before breakfast?" January sneered as our maid Clara poured her coffee.  
  
"Your nails could do with some colour," my younger sister Saturn commented. "So could your whole look for that matter."  
  
I couldn't help a small smirk of agreement. Saturn sat at the opposite end of the table gazing at me adoringly. She was only eleven, and held me in absolute awe. She didn't know anyone else with a sister who was a movie star.  
  
January muttered something extremely rude under her breath. I stood up as soon as my nails were dry, wanting to get out of my house as fast as possible, despite all the luxury.  
  
We had a large palatial style mansion in Beverly Hills. We'd only moved in two years ago when my father had become a judge. Before that we'd lived in an ordinary house in the suburbs of the city, and a fairly mundane lifestyle. Dad had been partner at his law firm for at least seven years, I had always wondered why we weren't much richer than we were. I knew people at school who's parents did the same job and had giant homes in the best neighbourhoods.   
  
It turned out Dad had been secretly investing and saving and gathering a fortune to design our own house and get us in the best private school.  
  
Lately I was under almost as much pressure as he was. Everyone expected so much from me. I didn't want to disappoint anyone. But winning an Oscar at seventeen seemed almost like a distant mirage glittering on the horizon. I didn't know if it would be really possible with the other three actresses I was up against.  
  
The horn of a red Ferrari in the circular driveway around the fountain was beeping. "I know, I know, I'm coming," I snapped, tossing my backpack in the car before getting in myself.  
  
"You look like hell," my best friend Mackenzie Jones commented.  
  
It was almost refreshing to hear an insult rather than a barrage of false compliments. I got plenty of critiques from tabloids and TV talk shows, at least I knew I could count on Mackenzie to tell me the truth.  
  
"Did something happen?" Mackenzie asked as she drove out into the busy morning traffic.  
  
I didn't know what to say. Mackenzie didn't need to know about the phone call, I could risk word of it getting out if I could help it. "Parker called in the middle of the night," I lied. "I didn't get much sleep."  
  
Parker Santez was an ex-boyfriend of mine who seemed to think calling for chats at all hours of the day and night were perfectly expectable. He had moved to Hong Kong four months ago and I hadn't heard from him since. I knew Mackenzie had never liked Parker. So it was a lie she would buy.   
  
She snorted in contempt. "I never knew what you saw in that jerk," she sneered, turning on the C.D. player. A fast-paced dance beat began pounding. "Specially when you get to smooch guys like Hudson Lewis."  
  
Hudson had been my co-star in my last movie *Dead* *To* *the* *World*, where I had played the ghost of a girl who was murdered by her boyfriend's jealous ex, and had to get the help of a psychic to convince him of the truth before the ex did the same again, and got away with murder and a large inheritance she wasn't entitled to.  
  
"We're just friends," I answered.  
  
"Oh come on. You're telling me there's *nothing* between you?"  
  
I sighed and looked out over the side of the car. "Hudson has a girlfriend, Jean. The annoying thing was I really liked her too."  
  
At least I hoped school would be something relatively normal. People there were used to me. Security was top-notch so we had no nosy reporters sticking their noses in. I had to sign one or two autographs for some of the younger kids in the parking lot, it was inconvenient, but I guess I didn't really mind.  
  
"Just cause you're famous now doesn't mean you'll be in ten years time," Elle Compeed sneered at me as I took my seat next to her in English. "Abigail Hunter is going to kick your ass at the Oscars."  
  
I ignored the remark, knowing that she was just trying to wind me up. A small part of me also knew she might be right. Elle hated me, originally she and I had gone to an audition for a movie production of the play *Our* *Town*. She had wanted to go, and I had simply come for moral support, then I had got the starring part, and that lead to my Hollywood career. Elle had despised me ever since.  
  
Before m next class I made a quick stop at my locker. I was *furious* to find the lock had been Broken. Who would be stupid enough to try something so - so *petty* and childish! What a violation of my privacy! I was used to my life story and anything that could be exploited being exploited and plastered across the media, but this stupid prank upset me more than it should have.  
  
When I threw open the door to see what had been taken, I immediately wished I hadn't. Inside was a human arm.  
  
* * * 


	3. Part 3

Part 3  
  
Faces were flashing before my eyes, people were speaking to me, but I couldn't make out the words. There was an *arm* in my locker. I didn't even want to know *whose* arm, or where the rest of the body was.  
  
People were speaking to me, but they were making no sense. Everything was blurry, nothing seemed to make sense at the moment. My vision was sparkling. I must have passed out, when I woke, I was in my room, lying on my bed. I shuddered, my throat felt parched and dry and parched. Reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table, trying to compose my thoughts.  
  
There were going to be people, police, talk shoes, tabloids...Everyone was going to be talking about the arm in my locker. There was going to be no way to keep something that bizarre a secret.  
  
"Chardonnay? Are you up yet?" Mother was coming into my room.   
  
"Just about. What happened? Why am I at home?"  
  
"Someone played a horrible prank on you." Mother reached over and patted my intact all sympathetically. "The school have made sure no one is going to spread anything or leek this to the press." Mother's smile was full of relief. "But there are two police officers who need a word."  
  
I felt a lump start to grow in my throat. My public appearance was all Mother cared about, not one of sympathy or anything about how I might feel, anything as long as I continued to look good for the cameras.  
  
"I'll be down in a second," I said, heading for my private bathroom. I splashed some water on my face. I had no idea how I was going to explain the arm.  
  
I changed into a pink cashmere sweater and a white skirt, brushed my hair and went downstairs. Two police officers were waiting in our guest parlour, a room just off the entrance hall with its' own bar and comfy white leather furniture. The walls were painted red, the carpet black. The lighting was track lights in the ceiling, with a few tiny blue spot lights added in. Most of the time, the blue lights and back lightning in the bar was enough, but today, with the two police officers here, the track lights were on full. My heart was pounding.   
  
"Miss Monroe?" The female of the pair was standing.  
  
I nodded. "That's me."  
  
"I'm Officer Hobbs, this is Officer Gilbert." She touched her partner's arm. Officer Gilbert had to be at least six foot too, he had a Hispanic look to him, and was extremely attractive. He didn't look much older than I did.  
  
Officer Hobbs was smaller, with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She was quite large, with a polite but firm smile. "We need to ask a few questions about the object in your locker. Can you explain it at all?"  
  
I shook my head. "Someone trying to scare me? Damage my reputation and start rumours?" I paused. I had to ask. "Was it real?"  
  
"Yes," Officer Gilbert answered. "It was. We're conducting forensic tests to find out who the arm belonged to."  
  
Forensic tests? I thought. I tried to keep my expression calm. If the forensics people were on this, then before long everything would be over for me. I'd be watching the Oscars from jail.  
  
"Is there any person in particular you think might go this far to...scare you?" Officer Gilbert asked. Something in his voice told me he thought an act like this just to scare me was pretty unlikely.  
  
Officer Hobbs had taken out a notebook and was scribbling things down. I thought. Elle came to mind instantly. Did Elle really hate me that much.  
  
*I've found you Carolyn. Perfect timing on my part.*  
  
The words of the phone call came back to me. No, I thought. No, no way could that...that...*person* have managed to get into my school to put the arm in my locker. "Elle Compeed," I said quickly. "She despises me."  
  
Officer Hobbs continued scribbling. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the arm in your locker?" She continued *looking* at me with those steely grey eyes.  
  
I shook my head. "That's all I can think of right now."  
  
"We'll be in touch," Officer Gilbert smiled, and left the room.  
  
"Everything sorted?" Mother called as I started to hurry back up the stairs.  
  
Mother didn't know the arm was real. She thought it was a prank. Let her think that for the time being, I told myself. "Yes, fine, Mother. They've got some leads to work off." I was lying through my teeth, but it was enough to satisfy Mother.  
  
"Good. You can go back to school tomorrow."  
  
I hurried back up to my room, sitting on the bed. I stared at the phone for a few minutes. Then took out my cell. Taking a few deep breaths I dialled a number.  
  
"Who is this?" a gruff female voice demanded.  
  
"Hi...Hi Layla. It's Carolyn," I answered in a tight whisper.  
  
"I told you never to call me."  
  
"I know, I know. But...but that thing we agreed never to talk about?"  
  
"What thing?"   
  
"The worst has happened."  
  
* * * 


	4. Part 4

Part 4  
  
I felt a little better after my phone call. Though I had the rest of the afternoon to amuse myself. Normally, I relished any free time I had. It was so rare I got to spend any time alone, apart from when I was asleep.  
  
But this afternoon I wanted to keep myself busy. I wanted meaningless distraction. I wandered downstairs, spending several hours in our private gym, then tried swimming in our outdoor pool...but nothing was working.  
  
My mind was running circles around me. It wanted to bring back unpleasant memories I had hoped to bury forever. Scary Phone calls and arms and forensic investigations...this whole thing was dramatic enough to be a movie of it's own.  
  
I almost didn't want to think of who play my art.  
  
The phone had been ringing non-stop, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to anyone. So much for distraction. As soon as I heard the voice of January entering the house I was on my way to the recreation room, I turned and retreated upstairs. The last thing I wanted to deal with now was January's bitchiness.  
  
As I collapsed on the bed a bleeping sound caught my attention. It took me a few seconds to work out it was my private cell phone. I had one for my agent and work business, another one with a different number for family and close friends, and a third only three people knew about.  
  
I took a key chain out my desk draw, found the smallest key on the loop, and took a small box out that was hidden in my underwear draw. I opened the box and took out the small Nokia phone.   
  
The screen was flashing a number I didn't recognise. My breath caught in my throat. "Who is this?" I asked. My voice was strained and afraid, I couldn't help it.  
  
"It's...It's Damien. Layla gave me your number. I wasn't sure if I should call or not, but..."  
  
A voice I had longed to hear for the last three years, even though we'd all agreed we would never contact each other again.  
  
"No...I'm glad you called. I know we all said we wouldn't, but, things change." Tears flooded my ears.   
  
"Um...listen, I know we're meeting in a week, I was hoping we could get together before then?"  
  
I didn't know what to say. When I was fifteen the high light of my life had been when Damien Barlow had asked me on a date. Rich, sophisticated and gorgeous, it was a dream come true. Of course, I hadn't wanted to believe at that age that dreams could turn into nightmares.  
  
"I suppose so." My eyes closed. Was I making a terrible mistake by agreeing to this? "Somewhere not in L.A."  
  
"Oh, you're famous now. That's not exactly going to help."  
  
"I know. I thought of the diner we all used to hang out at. I would love to see it again, all my old hang outs." For the first time that day, I found myself actually smiling, a wave of nostalgia for my old life washing over me.  
  
"Let's try Dixie's. It's a new bar/club thing that's about to open.!  
  
"How will we get in?"   
  
"I own it."  
  
"Big investment." Not the type of thing I would have expected from Damien. He had always planned on going to Harvard Law when he graduated. Which should have been two years ago.  
  
"It's not in Louisville, it's in Santa Monica, just off the pier. I couldn't stay after...well...you know."  
  
"What happened to law school?" I asked after a minute of uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Changed my mind. Say, Thursday at eight?"  
  
"I have school on Friday. I don't have a cyborg to take to take my place. Make it Friday?"  
  
"Fine. See you then." He hung up, a little too quickly for my liking.  
  
I got the feeling he'd deliberately cut me off since he had gotten what he wanted from me. Was I just being paranoid? Maybe he had just been nervous, or it hadn't been safe to talk anymore.  
  
The more pressing issue for me, of course, was how the hell did I get to Santa Monica on Friday to meet Damien, then to Louisville the following weekend, without anyone noticing and wondering what I was up to/  
  
I had three days to figure something out. Three days...but what could I sort out in that space of time? I didn't even know where to start on who was harassing me. I had no idea anyone had even known about what I'd...done.  
  
* * * 


	5. Part 5

Author's note: Just wanted to say a huge thanks to the people who have been commenting on the story so far :) Comments are always loved and appreciated greatly. Thanks again!!  
  
Part 5  
  
I left the house early the following morning to avoid facing my sisters. I knew I'd have to see them sometime, but today, going back to classes was going to be hard enough.  
  
I met Mackenzie at the little Spanish restaurant I liked for breakfast a few blocks from my private school. Very few people seemed to know it was there, or so it always seemed to me.  
  
"What the hell happened yesterday?" Mackenzie asked the minute she saw me.  
  
We sat in a both in a back corner, there were two other customers at tables the other side of the room. I recognised neither.  
  
"I don't know," I answered.  
  
"Bullshit," Mackenzie snorted. She sat back, arms folded dark eyes boring into me making me feel like I was squirming in my seat. "You don't get arms in your locker for no reason."  
  
I shrugged. "Maybe Elle was trying to scare me."  
  
"Do you really believe Elle would be that vicious? Have you not /seen/ the fuss she kicks up when we have to dissect stuff in bio class."  
  
Mackenzie had a point. This would have been the perfect to tell her the truth. I was not a shy person, I never had problems getting words out or even talking my way out of trouble (most of the time). Right now I felt small and stupid. And had no one to blame but myself.  
  
"She loves to see me mess up."  
  
"Okay, yeah. What do the police say?"  
  
"They're running a forensic investigation. My mom said the school's doing everything they can to keep this out the media."  
  
"So I here." Mackenzie's smile was dry. "Of course the gossip factor is crazy. There's one rumour that the rest of the body - "  
  
I held up a hand. "Don't want to hear it."  
  
I was saved from thinking of something else to say but the arrival of our breakfasts. I spent as long as I could focusing on my omlet and hash browns. All the while I could feel Mackenzie watching.  
  
I distracted myself again contemplating how I was going to get out of town to meet Damien on Friday. Then we had to get to Louisville. I knew I was going to need Mackenzie's help in all this. Someone was going to have to cover for me.  
  
"So what would you recommend from the menu? My Spanish isn't all that brilliant."  
  
My eyes shot up and the fork fell from my hand, landing painfully with the pointed end on my foot. I wished I'd worn the navy boots instead of the Jimmy Choo pink sandals I'd chosen instead.   
  
"Id say the Omlets, but the Frittatas are pretty good too." Mackenzie spoke while I searched for my voice.   
  
Sure my cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment, I picked up my fork and forced myself to look at the speaker. A gorgeous Japanese girl with shoulder length glossy ebony hair, large full pouty lips, doe eyes a beautiful deep chestnut. She was dressed casually in a pair of Calvin Kline jeans and a white Ralph Lauren top with a V-neck and short sleeves.  
  
"Gigi. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I was in the neighbourhood," Gigi answered, smirking. "Thought I'd stop by and say hi. Well, hi. I'll catch you round." With a cheerful wave she walked out, not even bothering to pretend to study the menu.  
  
"Someone you know?" Mackenzie asked.  
  
"Gigi Katsumi. I used to know her."  
  
"When she walked in you looked like you'd seen a ghost.  
  
I frowned. My appetite had gone. I pushed the plate to one side. "Last I heard Gigi was in a mental institution."  
  
"She didn't look crazy."  
  
I smiled faintly. "Crazy people rarely do. It's how they get away with things."  
  
"What happened to her?"  
  
Again here was an opening. No way out of this, and no more excuses. I might as well get this over and done with.   
  
"She hates me because I'm responsible of the death of her brother."  
  
* * * 


	6. Part 6

Part 6  
  
Mackenzie stared at me like she didn't understand what I was saying. As if I were quoting dramatic or something. If only things were that simple. I looked evenly back at her.  
  
Mackenzie looked at her watch. "We have to be in school in, like, twenty minutes." She signalled the waitress who brought our bill. Mackenzie threw down a fifty dollar bill and stood up.  
  
I reached out for her arm. "Mac - "  
  
"We're going to be late. Let's go."  
  
It was becoming clear she didn't want to listen to my story. She probably didn't even believe me. I guess I couldn't blame her. Who would want to believe that their best friend was responsible for someone's death?  
  
Now I had gotten the words out I found myself *wanting* to talk. I wanted to tell her what had happened now and what I was going to do about it. Mackenzie was dragging me out of the café and to her car. She was deliberately turning up the music.  
  
I resigned to sitting back in myself, almost willing Gigi to appear in the car, or her brother's ghost would be even better. Maybe living people could empathize and lie about what happened, but dead bodies couldn't.   
  
That was another thing I was going to have to deal with. Gigi, being here in L.A. Was Gigi the mysterious voice on the other end of the line? The one threatening to spill all my secrets? It made sense. Gigi hated me. Her revenge fantasies were part of the reason she bad been committed in the first place. Was she out because she had gotten better? Or had she escaped and decided to make those fantasies a reality?  
  
Part of me wanted to believe it, part of me was thinking it would make a great movie. I should think of writing them as well as starring in them. If I could write this script, I'd find out who the culprit was, destroy them and run off into the sunset with the sexy male co-star.  
  
"I'll see you later."  
  
We had reached the high school. Mackenzie was now eager to get rid of me.  
  
"Okay." I got out the car, not eager to go in and told out about the gossip surrounding me and the arm from yesterday. Maybe the school had been able to stop the situation from leaking to the press, but no school board, no matter how powerful, could stop the gossip factor of high school students.  
  
I would have felt better with my best friend at my side. Unfortunately my best friend was freaking out.  
  
Something else occurred to me then. Would Mackenzie keep my secret? Or would she turn on me and leak my story to the media? Ugh, this was where I *hated* being a movie star. I didn't want to be paranoid and suspect my friends. But what else could I do?  
  
As I had guessed, people were looking at each other and whispering as I went by. My locker had yellow crime scene tape covering it.  
  
"You can use my locker until they're through with yours if you like."  
  
The offer came from Nell Brooks, a somewhat plain and timid girl I just about remembered from a few of my classes. Nell was tall and thin with a long mane of hair a shade somewhere between brown and blonde. Her complexion was pale, I don't remember seeing Nell ever without her laptop or a pile of books.  
  
Nell was the quiet type of girl I generally avoided. Since the popular crowd were snubbing me, I couldn't be picky with friends. And who knew...it might help having a stranger to talk to. "Thanks Nell, I'd appreciate it."  
  
Nell's locker was conveniently opposite from mine, so I could keep an eye on what was going on.   
  
"They're saying an arm was found in there." Nell's voice was soft and almost - disturbing - in a way I couldn't quite put my finger on.  
  
I nodded. "Yeah, there was. But don't ask why, I don't know." An idea was starting to form in my mind. "Listen Nell, are you doing anything Friday?"  
  
Nell shook her head. "No."  
  
"It's a lot to ask, but I really, really need a favour." I shouldn't be taking advantage of Nell, but since Mackenzie wasn't around I had to do something.  
  
An irritating nagging inside was constantly trying to remind me of the fate that had befallen the last person I'd asked to do me a favour. I was determined not to let anything happen to Nell.  
  
"What kind of favour?" Nell asked.  
  
* * * 


	7. Part 7

Part 7  
  
The rest of the day passed without incident. I found myself relived even though Mackenzie was still avoiding me. I could feel the heat of Elle's gaze every time we passed. Had the police talked to her? I had tuned by ears out of the gossip, now it was all just meaningless background noise.  
  
I managed to focus my thoughts on schoolwork rather than my own personal drama. Nell was the only person to talk to me, and since she had agreed to do me a favour, I felt compelled to be nice to her. She wasn't part of my usual social circle, but I had no reason *not* to be nice to her.  
  
"I have some tests next week so I'll be spending the next few nights with a friend to study," I announced at dinner that night.  
  
No one said anything. If anything, January looked relived that I wouldn't be around. Mom would probably find some social event to occupy her time every night I was away, Dad would either be working or with Mom. Saturn would find some friends to stay with her. It wasn't like anyone would miss me.  
  
For what I was planning to do, that was probably going to be a good thing. Nell would provide me with cover should it be needed. I had my bags packed and was ready to go after school on Friday.   
  
Before I left for school the following morning, Damien called again.  
  
"I was thinking we can drive down to Louisville on Sunday morning. That gives us Friday night and all day Saturday together."  
  
"That sounds good. I'm really looking forward to seeing you again."  
  
"We're not going to have to fight off the paparazzi are we?" the tone of his voice was amused, but I knew he had a serious point.  
  
"I sincerely hope not. But if we do, we can make something up."  
  
"How are you getting out of school next week?" Damien asked. "You might want to think about some sort of disguise or something. No one's going to be too thrilled to see you back home."  
  
I hadn't thought of that. I had been focusing on trying to get someone to cover for me. Nell would deal with people at school and my parents for a few days. I had forgotten the people in my old town. "I'll think of something. I've got a friend covering for me next week."  
  
"See you this evening, then." He hung up.  
  
I had forgotten to tell him I'd seen Gigi. Did he know Gigi was out? I had yet another day of school to get through where I could ponder that. Then this evening I would see Damien and could talk to him in person rather than on the phone.  
  
"You're so not going to /believe/ this!" Saturn came bounding into my room without knocking.  
  
"What now?" I wasn't in the mood for Saturn's bounciness.  
  
"Look out the window," Saturn said, pointing.  
  
Frowning, I lifted the blinds up that I hadn't opened yet. My window provided a view of the front of our estate and the street beyond. In the distance I could see a small group of people with TV cameras and reporters.  
  
"Crap," I muttered. "What the hell is going on?"  
  
"They're saying you were involved in some sort of game. Some sort of incident that caused a boy to die." This voice was that of January, who was standing in the door with a smug smirk plastered all over her red lips.  
  
/How/? How had they found out? My worst nightmare had happened. My past had been leaked and my career would be over.  
  
"So much for the Oscars." January's voice held barely concealed malicious glee.  
  
"It's not true. Is it, Chardonnay?" Saturn was looking at me, her large blue eyes almost puppy like.  
  
I didn't know what to say.  
  
"My god, it really /is/ true." January stared at me.  
  
"Sort of," was all I could say. "Get out of here. Leave me alone. Both of you."  
  
My sisters turned and left. My cell-phone was ringing again. I wasn't in the mood for flirting with Damien or anyone else right now. But it wasn't Damien calling.  
  
"I warned you, Carolyn."  
  
The same threatening voice that had shaken me to the core at the start of the week.  
  
"Who /are/ you?" I screamed, losing all rationality. This - this /monster/ was ruining my life and I didn't know why. "Why are you doing this to me?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know." A sickening laugh followed. "I'm nowhere near through with you, Carolyn. By the way, did you like my gift?"  
  
My stomach heaved. I left like I was going to throw up. "The arm?"  
  
"It'll only be a matter of time before the police figure out who it belongs to. Only you and I know what really happened to Michael Katsumi."  
  
"Gigi? Why are you doing this to me? You won't get away with it." Hot tears spilled down my cheeks.  
  
"If I was Gigi, I'd tell you."  
  
The caller hung up. He'd called my private cell-phone only four other people knew about. He could find me anywhere. I dropped the phone and stamped on it, smashing it to pieces. I wrenched the phone from the nightstand and smashed that too.  
  
"Go away!" I shouted, when someone started pounding on my door.  
  
"Chardonnay! What is going /on/? What have you /done/?" My mother's voice was angry, unusually vicious. "You little bitch! You've ruined everything!"  
  
"Go away!" I shrieked again, throwing a chair at the door.  
  
Wasn't it amazing how quickly everyone turned against you? Even my own mother was cursing m. I was going to drag our good family name through the mud. The scandal would be all over the news. The media was probably having a field day.  
  
I collapsed on my bed, burying my face in the pillows, my shoulders wrenching as I sobbed. No one was coming to comfort me. No one could do anything to make this better.  
  
Only me. I was the only one who could get myself out of this. I had to face my past and deal with it. Screw my career. There were other things I could do with my time that would be more worthwhile. Getting the truth out was what mattered now.  
  
* * * 


End file.
